


Allegro, Allegro

by CloverTheGrand



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Musician, Caprice No. 24, Crowley Plays the Violin (Good Omens), M/M, Meet-Cute, Musical Performance, Niccolò Paganini - Freeform, Paganini is ANYTHING but Andante Andante!, Violins, but when I picked the piece I realised:, romantic era music, this was supposed to be called Andante Andante
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24585082
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CloverTheGrand/pseuds/CloverTheGrand
Summary: Every Friday afternoon, a mysterious listener listened to Crowley practising his violin. It was the shoddy practise room's door's fault, always swinging open at the worst time. Probably attracted the listener like flies to honey. Crowley intends to catch the snooper red-handed. But simply saying: "haha, got you"? Come on, where is the fun in that? No, the listener wants a performance, so Crowley will deliver one just for them. Well. Playing Paganini's "Caprice No. 24", one of the most notoriously difficult violin pieces there is, is probably a bit too ambitious for Crowley. But at least it would give the listener one Hell of a performance.
Relationships: Crowley & Gabriel (Good Omens), Crowley/Gabriel (Good Omens)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	Allegro, Allegro

A mysterious listener watched Crowley perform every Friday afternoon after school ended.

See, it happened that Friday was the one day that Crowley brought his violin to school. Crowley had brought the violin, so he might as well do something. And after school was finished? He was free to practise and played it in the music practice rooms freely. 

It also happened that a mysterious someone watched him play. That? That all started because the doors of the practise rooms were dodgy and swung open at random. Furthermore, Crowley was usually too distracted figuring out where to play the sharps to notice. Facing away from the door helped a little, too. To be honest, Crowley only knew of the Mx. Audience’s existence thanks to the one time they left their bag on the seats in front of the practice rooms. 

Crowley did not know who it was. And indeed, it’ll stay that way. 

For now.

Because Crowley intended to catch this listener red-handed. But where was the fun in saying: “haha, got you”? No, the listener wants a performance, so Crowley will deliver one just for them.

To get ready for the next week, Crowley brushed up on Paganini’s _Caprice No. 24_ . When Crowley figured out his plan, he just _knew_ he needed to perform the impossible craziness of Paganini’s music pieces. Not because Crowley wanted to show off, no. Was his plan overly ambitious? Well, yes, because it was Paganini. A little silly? Maybe so. Though not as silly as the fact that he counted down the days until it was Friday again.

At last, it was time. Goosebumps pricked Crowley's skin as he walked into the practice room. The door behind him swung open, exposing him to whoever may be watching outside. Crowley faced away from the door like always, then started to tune his violin. He grinned when he heard quiet footsteps tiptoe to the seats in front of the music room. As Crowley closed his eyes, he spun around to face where the listener was, which earnt him a brief gasp. The corner of Crowley's mouth stretched into a sly grin.

Hello there.

Crowley did not dare to open his eyes yet., however He drew a deep breath in, then readied his bow at the frog, savouring the lull before the frenzy of the piece.

The opening’s first notes rang proud and clear as Crowley delivered strong bow strokes with the snap of his wrist. It wasn’t great to rush too early, however, so Crowley counted the beats carefully and methodically inside his head. A cheeky mood came up to him when the section up in the E string came up, however, prompting Crowley to play with a very light, crisp sautillé. Crowley was only aware of the grin that crept up his face when he suppressed a frown at the sluggish, heavy largo that followed. Perhaps that was why when the rapid, slurred chromatics appeared, Crowley rushed just a bit too fast. He nearly had a heart attack when he stuffed a note up. And so the notes strewed together into delirium. Well. At least Paganini had always been the type to play with a flair of improvised rubato, wasn’t he? 

Crowley played, alright. He played with every bit of himself he could muster. The caprice’s melody swept around like the winds of a hurricane. His mind was dizzy with ecstasy as his strings set on fire. His fingers danced a rapid tarantella up and down the fingerboard as they kept up with his bow’s ricochets. Faster, faster, and faster. And Crowley did not back down, even while sweat dripped down his forehead, even while his heart hammered inside of his ribcage.

He wanted to be worthy enough to meet the mysterious listener, after all. 

The violin’s strings echoed for the final time as Crowley delivered a final chord. At last, his bow was freed from the strings, and Crowley let out a heavy heave as a cool breeze chilled him.

A series of claps followed. 

Crowley opened his eyes, and the series of claps quickened. He blinked at the sight of the boy with the violet eyes. The boy gave Crowley a small smile that hid the excitement inside of him, evident by the rosy blush across the bridge of his nose. Crowley recognised him. Gabriel, was it? Ah. They shared a law class once. Well. Gabriel had always been a bit of a stickler. Looked like he finally loosened up. Crowley smiled.

There you are.

And he bowed.

**Author's Note:**

> I was gonna have Crowley play Vivaldi but then I realised that Crowley probably saw this and got another idea.
> 
> https://youtu.be/oY9Dg-OlA3E
> 
> Great, now I want to write a 19th century A/C/G fic where Crowley is a famous violinist and Aziraphale and Gabriel are his two fans.


End file.
